


talia

by intoxicatelou



Series: the starker fic playlist [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Also fluff, BAMF Tony Stark, Drunk Peter, First Kiss, First Times, Getting Together, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kissing It Better, M/M, Peter Hips Don't Lie Parker, Side of Angst, Sober Tony, THE KING PRINCESS FIC, Tony I Don't Know How to Adult Stark, Virgin Peter Parker, casual eye sex, eventual Porn with Feelings, king princess made me do this, peter's a little shit and tony's hopelessly endeared, post-Homecoming, pun intended there, really wholesome fluff?, sexual tension masked as dialogue, slight dom/sub undertones, the sex is coming i promise, there is one non-con element of a kiss by some drunk asshole, this is also a little bit of crack because i'm a mess, this is entirely self indulgent as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-15 12:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15413166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/pseuds/intoxicatelou
Summary: He saw Peter and maybe, just maybe, Tony realized sharply,  that there was a first time for everything and he really should’ve pulled up Peter’s numbers before all but running into a sweaty club full of  twenty-somethings drenched in booze because for once, FRIDAY had been wrong.  Peter wasn’t fighting a supervillain,  he was simply and irrevocably ...drunk.or the one where Peter is super wasted and Tony shows up by accident because nothing's fool proof except how desperately they want each other.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> so talia by king princess gave me all the feelings this past weekend and i really need a break from my other fic because the angst was ,,,tooo,, heavy so here i am procrastinating with ANOTHER fic #classic also nothing cures my depression like drunk! peter being cute and drunk and sexy all at once, but that being said this is only gonna be a few chapters like 3? 2? because i have to get back to that other fic sometime ahaha
> 
> also literally listen to talia because king princess deserves and peter and tony do too it's that good and also it's what birthed this fic
> 
> !! trigger warning because there's this one shitty part of this chapter which is like a non consensual kiss between peter and a stranger at the club and it doesn't last long but it is there, so i just want to mention that just in case because that stuff is nasty and people need to stop being creeps 2018 
> 
> as always comments and kudos are always appreciated, and i love to hear what you think about this mess of love which i am about to give you
> 
> fic dedicated to my one and my only, the original tequila made me do it muse, fee, i love you

“Oh come on Peter, it’s not like we’re going to some lame highschool party, this is a club! Flash won’t even be here and it’s like where college kids go!!”  Ned had tried explaining, excitement obvious to him but not to Peter who was still frowning as they walked down the street, MJ already ahead of them leading the way to the place she’d texted them about.  

 

She looked good, they all did. Peter watched her heels clack against the pavement, eyes wandering up her long, long legs till the hem of her short black dress finally started, because Peter might be gay but MJ really did clean up well. He looked to his left, and sure enough, even Ned had put on a nicer shirt that usual, a dark print that he’d buttoned all the way to the top that made him look older and cooler than he was.  Peter himself had been corralled into the tightest black jeans MJ could find in his closet and a white v-neck that May had bought him months ago but he never wore because it did nothing to hide his spider-man abs.  _ And that’s exactly why you’re wearing it tonight,  _ MJ had said with a smirk when she’d seen him in it, and Ned had cheered so you know. Peter’s wearing the fucking shirt. 

 

MJ flashed the bouncer a smile and the surprisingly real-looking fake IDs her cousin had made them all for MJ’s birthday, and Peter guesses he could try to be in a better mood. It was his best friend’s birthday after all. 

 

+

  
6 Tequila shots, 5 Strawberry Daiquiris, and 4 Bacardi Cocktails later (if he could remember the numbers right), Peter was  _ definitely  _ in a better mood. Or as MJ had fondly pointed out,  _ drunk off your ass is what you are Parker.  _  He just blew her a kiss and sang happy birthday way too off-key. Ned was no better, giggly after the fourth tequila shot and kept laughing at the both of them for no damn reason while simultaneously being incredibly fascinated by those little tiny umbrella thingies. Peter wasn’t as jubilant but he’d already shrugged off his jean jacket and maybe it was the alcohol reacting with his spider senses, or maybe it was just that it was saturday night at a club and there were people absolutely everywhere, but he felt  _ hot _ . It wasn’t like he was overheating though, just warm, like something  was spilling honey inside him, like some spark had lit him up from the inside like the glowing echo of a molten star,  _ or an arc reactor _ — 

 

“The glowing echo of what?” MJ cackles, and Peter looks at her, a dazed grin across his face despite the flush of embarrassment that he’d been talking out loud. His thoughts were swirling inside his head and some of them were spilling out, but he can’t remember the last time he got drunk and it felt  _ this _ good. He feels electric, like he could do anything,  and if the club’s walls didn’t seem so sketchy, he’s pretty sure he’d be climbing them by now. Everything felt more powerful, more vibrant, and more tangible. He felt like he could stop a moving train with his bare hands and perform a strip tease at the same time.  _ The duality of (spider)man, _ Peter thought, giggling to himself.  He expected being around so much stimuli to overwhelm him, that his senses dialed to eleven would be giving him a catastrophic migraine, but if anything the alcohol had subdued them into a gooey mixture that Peter felt like he could carry around easier than when he was sober. 

 

(Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking) 

 

Peter threw back another shot, let the tequila burn down his throat, and he could feel eyes watching the long line of his throat as he swallowed around the shot glass. MJ just whistled and Ned grabbed the glass out of his mouth to add to his tower he was building with the other empty ones. The neon lights cascaded over the three of them, music thrumming from the dance floor and Peter felt free. There wasn’t anyone to save, it was just him and his best friends and this intoxicating music.  

 

And damn does he want to  _ dance _ . 

 

_ But four drinks I'm wasted _

_ I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you _

_ At the foot of my bed _

_ If I drink enough _

_ I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you _

_ But it's all in my head _

_ If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you _

 

His enhanced hearing picks out the lyrics easily despite the noise around him, and somewhere in his fogged brain he realizes it reminds him of someone, of expensive cologne and kind almond eyes and that perfectly trimmed beard — 

 

Peter’s out of the bar stool and is stumbling into the dance floor before he can talk himself out of it, even though he’s pretty sure his knees have the stability of jello right now. 

 

“Jello! Peter you’re right, we need  _ Jello Shots  _ !” He hears Ned scream in the distance, but it was all far away to Peter who found himself amidst moving bodies, the sweat and heat only adding to the fever of the music and Peter closes his eyes as he finally lets his hips move on their own accord. 

 

+

 

It was Saturday and Tony was drinking a smoothie, because you know, today had been just that good and the bourbon sat untouched on the opposite side of the house. Pepper had kept his Saturday free and he’d been tinkering in the workshop with ACDC playing in a quiet sort of harmony that he rarely got these days in between handling the avengers, his own company, and of course Peter, New York’s very own spiderling. 

 

Not that he minded Peter’s interruptions in his life, if anything, Tony found himself looking forward to working on the spider suit, finding new ways to make sure he could protect the kid as he flung himself from insane skyscraper heights. Even though Peter had turned him down, after the incident with Vulture and being crushed underneath a ton of cement, he didn’t stop Tony from trying to protect him, just as Tony didn’t stop Spiderman from taking his  vigilante risks, only promised to be there to catch him if he falls. 

 

It hadn’t been easy getting Peter to agree, the kid was stubborn enough to give Tony a run for his money. 

 

“I should have never taken your suit, and I won’t do it again, but Spiderman is more than a suit for you. I know that now.” Tony had said months ago, microchip in hand, barely the size of a grain of rice. He’d almost lost Peter once and he wasn’t going to let it happen again, with or without the suit.  “It’s just for your vitals and your location, and FRIDAY monitors it more than I do. She’ll only inform me if anything abnormal happens, so with our without the suit you’ll be protected. Look, I promise I’ll remove it once you turn 21 but you’re still a kid right now and I can’t argue with your aunt, kid. She’s the one who said it’ll make her feel better if I can watch you like this.” 

 

Peter hadn’t looked up from where he was staring at the microchip in Tony’s hand the entire time Tony had been talking, obviously angry, but there’d been something about that last sentence that had caused Peter to look up abruptly.   _ Watch you like this _ , Tony mentally slapped himself, he really should watch his wording, the implications obviously fresh on Peter’s mind, and Tony remembered the slight heat of that gaze. Remembered liking it before his higher brain function kicked in and reminded him that consent laws exist for a reason. 

 

“Not literally I mean, it’s still a microchip not a secret camera, but you know what I mean kid, watch  _ over _ you. As your mentor. Friendly paternal type stuff so your aunt can sleep better at night when you’re slinging yourself from rooftop to rooftop in the godforsaken Queens.” 

 

“Queens is a great place, Mr. Stark.”  Peter had said, a slight smile on his face and nothing else, and somehow he’d agreed after that. Just handed over his arm so Tony could inject the microchip, and if Tony’s hands had lingered a moment longer on the curve of the kid’s wrists they both didn’t talk about it. 

 

Peter had been sixteen then, and Tony had bottled everything down since. The microchip had only gone off once or twice, and Peter had genuinely needed his help then, apparently Toomes had a few more associates that they hadn’t known about originally. It worked. Tony wasn’t fucking it up like he thought he would. 

 

Which is why when FRIDAY informed him calmly that Peter’s heart rate was extremely elevated, with temperature spiking at a 105 degrees, Tony all but drops his smoothie and is flying towards Peter’s projected location in the Iron Man suit without bothering to pull up the rest of Peter’s data. 

 

+

 

He didn’t know why aggressively  stalking through the dancefloor trying to get to the bathroom, because rationally that’s where Peter would fight someone in this shitty club, had been a good idea because it was loud and the lights weren’t that great and people kept trying to dance with him, too drunk to even recognize that they were pulling at Tony Stark’s dress shirt.  _ Where the fuck was the kid?  _ He thought,  he was at the right location according to the gps in his watch. The microchip alert was still going off in his systems, and besides FRIDAY was never wrong when it came to the microchip, Tony had made sure of it. It was fool-proof. 

 

But then he saw him. He saw Peter and maybe, just maybe, Tony realized sharply,  that there was a first time for everything and he really should’ve pulled up Peter’s numbers before all but running into a sweaty club full of  twenty-somethings drenched in booze because for once, FRIDAY had been wrong. Peter wasn’t fighting a supervillain, he was simply and irrevocably  _ drunk _ . 

 

+

 

Peter’s pretty sure his shirt’s drenched in sweat but he feels like he’s on fire in the best way, and he can’t stop dancing, can’t stop giving in to the sultry rhythm of the music. So when the guy behind him grabs his hips and pulls Peter back against the solid expanse of his chest, Peter doesn’t fight it just looks up at the nameless stranger over his shoulder and grinds his ass back hard. 

 

“You’re so hot”, he hears the other man say and Peter can feel him, can feel a dick hardening against his lower back, but the music is too loud and drowns out any anxiety about how he’s never done this before, never even kissed a boy, yet here he was moving his hips like a slutty twink. 

 

Peter doesn’t know a thing about him, all except that he’s a little taller and got big hands that are holding him hard at the hips. It’s all Peter needs to close his eyes and imagine someone else. Imagine the sound of cufflinks and fingers with calluses slipping underneath the curve of his t-shirt where it had risen a little from all the dancing, imagine the smell of the workshop, of oil and grease and obscenely expensive cologne, imagine a groan that was deeper,  _ older _ and Peter’s hard just from the thought. 

 

It’s overwhelming him and he blinks his eyes open, dizzy on his feet as the sudden onslaught of neon beams and strangers moving enter his vision. He blinks and realizes he’s deep in the dance floor, his cock hard in his tight jeans, and looks around if anyone noticed the obvious bulge, if anyone’s watching. It’s hard though, his vision was far blurrier than before, and no ones staring except one guy who keeps looking at Peter and back at what seems like a watch. The mysterious stranger was only a couple feet away at best, in a crisp violet shirt, almost like the one Mr. Stark was wearing earlier today at the lab.  He catches Peter’s eye and his mouth drops open a little realizing that he’s being watched back. Peter just smirks, and his eyes do their best to focus on the face of this tall, handsome stranger, but he’s only getting hazy details like a beard of some sort and maple brown sugar eyes but Peter bites his lip when he takes it all in. It’s not much but it’s enough, his mind can fill in the rest. 

 

He just needs to get close to this Mr. Stark look alike, and dance with him instead, and if he imagines it enough he could probably come in his pants just like that. He probably wouldn’t even remember the guy in the morning but that’s the good part for the both of them. It’s not like Peter really wants the look-alike, he’s just a replacement for the real Tony Stark who was probably cuddled up on a couch somewhere with Pepper watching Call Me By Your Name or some other equally romantic movie. 

 

The very thought has Peter stumbling towards this strange man, only to realize he’d been pulled back by his first dancing partner. Peter frowns and stops moving, turns around to tell the random guy he’s leaving only to be met with a hot mouth covering his own, a hand gripping his chin hard to the point it was hurting, arms holding him still uncomfortably. Peter doesn’t know what to do, his eyes stay open, locked in a scream but he’s drunk and he knows if he tries moving away from the guy and breaking his hold, his could break a bone because of his powers. And that’s be bad for everyone, Peter doesn’t want to hurt anyone, even though he feels like he might throw up when the other guy’s tongue touches his own and he feels tears pinprick his eyes because it’s his first real kiss since he realized he was gay and it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be Tony and the workshop bench digging into his back, grease on his forehead and unrestrained desire flowing between them both, it was supposed to feel like coming home not this forced pervasion his mind could hardly process, his limbs tight but stuck —

 

+

 

_ I’m not jealous I’m just doing the right thing,  _ Tony tells himself when he pulls the random college student off of Peter, only thinly stopping himself from activating his gauntlet and punching the guy in his face.

 

He hadn’t originally planned  to intervene, even though the kiss caught him by surprise, considering the heated looks that’d been cast his way in the past few minutes. Peter looked like he wanted to all but pounce on Tony, probably because he was too drunk to realize who Ton was, and honestly Tony was already calculating the nervous laugh he’d let out before wagging his finger about underage drinking and taking Peter home. He’d got it all planned out, because he knew the second Peter realized it was Tony standing there, that whole game they’d been playing with their eyes would fall apart in front of them. Because Peter might be drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. At least that’s what Tony wanted to believe. 

 

Peter was drunk and hook-up culture was millennial culture anyway, and Tony shouldn’t say anything, it wasn’t his place.  But he couldn’t lie, there was something sick rising in his stomach when he saw the other boy touch Peter, claim his mouth, hungry like all the feeling Tony had buried down since that first day he’d recruited the kid in his apartment.  And so Tony who should’ve left a long time ago, stayed once more, quiet but watching, thinking,  _ To kiss you, just once,  _ eyes enraptured by the sight in front of him. 

 

But then, Peter’s eyes had flashed open and Tony frowned. Something felt wrong, and Tony waited a minute, expecting Peter to pull back and push the guy off, because Peter was Spiderman and he surely had the strength, but when Peter doesn’t move, just stays there, paralyzed against this twenty three year old something who was all but fucking Peter’s mouth with his tongue now, Tony remembers with a terrible feeling, that Peter was also just a  _ kid.  _

 

So Tony throws caution to the wind about how weird it is that he’s been there watching Peter watch him for the past few minutes and what that means for them when Peter realizes that it’s actually him and that awkward car ride back to Queens that’s bound to happen, and just does what he originally came here to do anyway; He helps Spiderman.  

 

“How about you take the hint and leave the kid alone.” Tony says, voice cold as he steps in between Peter and the other guy. Peter steps back, eyes still adjusting, Tony assumes because he could smell the alcohol off of him, clinging to Tony’s arm on instinct, hiding behind him. 

 

“Fuck off, he was asking for it, with that ass.” The guy says, words far too coherent for someone who was trying to appear drunk, and Tony’s eyes narrow as he realizes just what kind of creep he was dealing with, the sober kind who prey on the drunkest of the crowd.   Behind him, he feels Peter flinch, fingers digging deeper into Tony’s bicep, and Tony’s done playing nice. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of the creep’s face before he can even understand what’s happening, voice calm as he responds. 

  
“He wasn’t asking for it, he was drunk and you were the asshole who took advantage of it. But hey, you’re in college, we all make mistakes. But next time you think of fucking with someone who’s obviously drunker than you, just remember Tony Stark has your photo and could have it plastered on Times Square with the word MICROPENIS underneath it within five minutes. I mean really I just have to click my watch. I could do it now. But you look apologetic enough, and I feel sorry for you kid, must be hard hiding the the truth about your dick, or I guess lack thereof one.” Tony lets out a humorless chuckle, voice still cold and calm as he gets right up in the asshole’s face, which Tony is glad to see is pale as a sheet. “This is a lesson, kid. I really want to blast you out of the damn club right now, but I guess being IronMan means being capable of small acts of mercy. Ask before you kiss someone the next time, no matter how ‘into’ it they may seem.  Now get the fuck out of my face.”

 

The guy all but scrambles away from Tony after that, and he feels the hand around his upper arm loosen. Tony turns around to face Peter, reaching around to hold him, because that’s what the parenting books had talked about, to offer a safe form of physical closeness after that prick had just violated Peter. 

 

Tony turns around, but he miscalculates the trajectory apparently, or something, because that’s not what happens. Tony wraps his hands around Peter’s waist at the same time Peter yanks his collar down and kisses him. 

 

Tony knows he should push away, especially after that lecture he just gave that other dude, but Peter’s mouth is wet, pink and insistent, and Tony gasps at the feeling, a fatal error because suddenly Peter’s sucking on his tongue and wow, this night is not at all going where it needs to. 

 

It’s hard not to kiss him back, and Tony tries, Tony really tries for five whole seconds, before giving in, fingers carding through Peter’s hair, and kissing him like he means it, like all those bottled feelings were spilling from his mouth into Peter, finally. They’re in the middle of the club surrounded by people with phones and cameras and twitter, but Tony could care less about the PR scandal he was doomed to create because he’d gladly go to hell for this again. He’d gladly do anything just to do this again, because kissing Peter was rapidly becoming Tony’s favorite thing.  

 

_ And it’s okay, it’s just a kiss, totally pg-13, just a kiss.  _ His mind chants, keeping the anxiety at bay at how wrong this could go, but for now,  _ it’s just a kiss and it’s okay.  _

 

But as soon as Tony thinks that, it’s like the universe has other ideas. Peter grabs his ass, and Tony wasn’t expecting that, or the very obvious bulge in Peter’s pants to be rubbing against his thigh, and Tony can’t help it, he groans. It’s the sound of his own voice, already so wrecked, that breaks him. He steps back and Peter follows, mouth still chasing his, eyes dilated and heavy. 

 

“Please Mr. Stark--” Peter tries, and Tony closes his eyes and counts to ten while taking another step back,  because really, this kid is going to be the death of him and Tony needs to leave. They’re still in public and Peter’s still hopelessly hard and drunk and Tony needs to do his damn job of making sure he’s safe. Also there’s still the microchip going off, which is what brought him here in the first place, and sure enough Tony finally realizes that Peter’s about ten times warmer than usual from where he’s still holding onto Tony. It’s that simple observation that does it, and Tony’s turning around and pulling Peter through the crowd. 

 

“Where-Where are we going, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, struggling to keep up with his drunk limbs. Tony snorts as he glances back at him, Peter was as amusing as a baby giraffe. 

“To sober up, young Spiderling. There's a car waiting. ” 

  
  



	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It could be like a movie, Peter thinks, shoveling another mouthful of these surprisingly fluffy pancakes, eyes still on Mr. Stark, If you just let me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is such fluff and feelings and sexual tension i really can't help myself apparently, when it comes to these two. writing this is actually self indulgent, and i'm glad y'all are right there with me somehow. that being said the kudos and comments and everything are always so so so appreciated, i am v grateful
> 
> if you like this, you should totally read my other [peter tony fic ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609901/chapters/35188622) because it's got way more sex but also the same amount of feelings? and yeah. 
> 
> chapter couldn't have been possible without my feef, thank you for being my literal peter muse in this one, you know this one's for you as always xx

Apparently ‘sobering up’ means watching Tony Stark make you chocolate chip pancakes at 3 AM  in a dress shirt that still somehow manages to look impeccable because there just isn’t a single thing the man can’t do well and Peter’s still drunk on the kiss that feels like it almost didn’t happen, except that Tony keeps looking at him when he thinks Peter isn’t watching but it never works because Peter doesn’t have an ounce of self control right now, and he just stares back. Their eyes keep meeting and Peter doesn’t know what to do with the observation, only that he doesn’t want it to stop. 

 

In another universe where things are easier and simple and Mr. Stark didn’t carry the guilt of the world on his shoulders, he’d probably say “See something you like?” to the way Peter’s eating his pancakes one after the other but not really looking at the food as much as his eyes keep getting caught on Tony’s arms as they stir more of the pancake mix, and Peter would respond “Obviously” and Tony’s eyes would go dark, with that playboy smirk, and suddenly they’d like do the sex thing. 

 

_ It could be like a movie _ , Peter thinks, shoveling another mouthful of these surprisingly fluffy pancakes, eyes still on Mr. Stark,  _ If you just let me.  _

 

“Kid did you say something?” Peter freezes while eating and maybe he’d been doing the drunk talking out loud thing again, and is just about to stammer something out, before Tony interrupts him “Swallow first.” 

 

Peter can’t help it but his eyes widen, _Swallow first,_ the command landing somewhere low in his stomach, and he can’t help but imagine hearing it in another totally inappropriate context, on his knees, for Tony, in this damn kitchen, the tile hard underneath his knees when Tony says _Swallow first,_ one of Mr. Stark’s hands in his hair, _Swallow first and then you can come,_ and the other curled tightly around edge of the marble island _._ Peter’s weak, has always been weak for Mr. Stark since that first day in his shoebox apartment, had barely contained the sound low in his throat when Mr. Stark had laid a warm hand on his shoulder and asked him to go to Germany, sitting so close to him on his twin sized mattress which Peter had all but broken that night with how hard his orgasm had hit him, Tony’s cologne still lingering in the air for hours after he’d left. 

 

Peter’s weak and  _ drunk _ and it does nothing to help the whine that escapes his lips, as he swallows whatever was left in his mouth, washing down the rest with water, head tilting back, putting on a show whether Mr. Stark intended him to or not. Tony doesn’t say anything, but Peter hears him curse as his hand slips from where he was cooking. When Peter looks back at the noise, the sharp clang of metal against the stove,  Tony’s eyes are glued to his mouth, dragging down to the curve of his neck, hungry in a way that pancakes couldn’t fix. 

 

_ Maybe I’m not the only one who’s weak,  _ Peter thinks, and he finds himself walking over to where Tony is, sitting up on the counter, head thunking lightly on the cabinets as he leans back, looking at Mr. Stark through his eyelashes. 

 

“Tasted good.” Peter whispers, his voice too thick already, and he wonders if Tony’s noticed the outline of his dick yet. It wasn’t as obscene when they were making out on the dance floor, but his senses were overloaded way beyond their usual scope, so it wouldn’t take much to get it back to where it was. 

 

“What?” Tony says, almost like he’s afraid of his own voice, eyes still on Peter’s mouth, flitting nervously up to his eyes.  _ Do I make Tony Stark nervous?  _

 

“The pancakes I mean, they tasted good, Mr. Stark.” Peter doesn’t know where he’s getting all this confidence from, but he thanks the Tequila gods wherever they are, because he’s reaching his arm out and pulling on Tony’s loose tie until the man’s turned off the stove, and is standing in between Peter’s legs. Tony still hasn’t said anything, just followed Peter like he knew it was against his better judgement but who was he to deny Peter anything?

 

“I didn’t know you could cook” Peter said, hands landing gently on the other man’s shoulders, and he liked that they were almost the same height like this, eyes steady on where Tony was staring back at him.

 

“I didn’t either, but Steve he would --” Tony started, like he’d allowed himself access to a memory he didn’t particularly want anymore,  voice strained, “It was his recipe. The pancakes. He’d make them every morning for the team, back when we -- the team was still a thing. I picked it up after the seventh time he made them, cooking is a lot like engineering, just with different tools and materials ” 

 

“You could be on the Food Network with that pitch.” Peter tries, a soft grin on his face,  because Tony sounded sad and lonely and Peter hated that he was familiar with it. Spending hours with Tony in the workshop, Peter had watched Tony work on Steve’s shield, to this day, trying to make it better, even though his hands were shaking.   Peter had asked him why once, just because it seemed so fucking unnecessary considering what Cap had done to him, and Tony deserved better, but that’s apparently not what Mr. Stark thought. It was the first and only time Peter had seen Tony cry in front of him, and Peter promised himself to never bring up Steve Rogers if he could help it. 

 

“I could, I’m _ Tony Stark. _ ”  Tony says after a while, hands moving closer to the warmth of Peter’s thighs, and Peter inhales sharply, spider-senses tingling at the movement. 

 

“ _ You _ could do anything.” Peter says, eyes dropping to Tony’s lips, pulling the older man closer with his ankles.  They’re so close, Peter could just kiss him now, if he wanted to, and he wanted to, god, he did --

 

“You’re right, hold on kid.” Tony whispered, a twinkle in his eye, and suddenly Peter’s being lifted off his ass and into Tony’s arms, as they walk into the living room. 

  
“Mr. Stark!” Peter yelps, not expecting the  flurry of movement, hands clutching at Tony’s back, half-afraid he’ll fall and make a fool of himself, half- giddy from being this close to Tony, chest to chest, the older man’s  hands strong underneath his thighs. 

 

Tony’s chuckling, and Peter feels the sound run through him, blushing when Tony says, “You should have seen your face, kid.” 

 

“You’re such a tease”, Peter mumbles as Tony deposits him gently onto his favorite couch in the living room, and it warms him to know that Tony remembers these small details when it comes to him. It’s just another reminder that maybe what happened at the club wasn’t a one-time thing, that maybe Peter wasn’t the only one who had noticed the lingering touches, the special smiles, the unwavering trust between them. 

 

Tony leaves him there, sprawled on the couch, only for a moment, but Peter misses him immediately.  “Mr. Stark -- ” He says, half about to get up, before the rest of his sentence is muffled by a blanket covering his face, and Tony’s voice “Just one minute kid”, and then there are strong calloused hands pulling his head up and a plush pillow sliding underneath his head, and  _ oh God, is Iron Man tucking me in to bed? _ __  
  


+

 

“Yes, Iron Man is tucking Spider Man into bed, god if only the tabloids could see us now.” Tony jokes, standing over Peter’s blanket burrito form, and even though the kid was pouting, Tony could see he was comfortable.  _ And cute. So fucking damn cute, with that pink mouth -- _

 

“So you should go to bed.” Tony abruptly blurted out, and hopes Peter doesn’t catch on that it’s more for Tony than for him.  

 

“But I’m not  _ tired _ , Mr. Stark” and Peter’s pout, Tony didn’t believe it could,  somehow gets  _ worse _ , the kid’s teeth digging into his plush lower lip and it’s not fair, being an adult really shouldn’t be this difficult.

 

“Alcohol is a depressant kid, this is where you’re gonna end up one way or another” 

 

“But I’m  _ Spiderman _ ” Peter sasses back, and Tony, well, Tony didn’t expect that and laughs loudly, breath wheezing, and Peter’s giggling with him, until he gives in to sit on the floor,  back leaning against the frame of the couch closest to Peter’s head, a hand ruffling the kid’s hair just because he could.

 

“Fine, I’ll stay here until you fall asleep okay?”  Tony contends, and he doesn’t even have to look back at Peter to know he’s smiling. “Feeling better?” 

 

Peter hums in response, before talking in that little nonsensical way he does whenever he gets excited or passionate about something. “Oh yeah, way better, the food really helped Mr. Stark you’re like a pancake wizard, like I know it wasn’t exactly your recipe but you totally know what you’re doing and they were so fluffy and perfect and the chocolate chips just added the right —“

 

“Pancake wizard” Tony repeats, voice way more choked off that it needs to be, but it’s late and Tony’s still somehow  _ beyond _ enthralled.

 

“So I might still be um a little drunk” Peter stammers, and it’s cute, it’s so much cuter than it needs to be, Tony lets himself laugh, which is really just a coping mechanism at this point for how badly he wants to kiss the kid.

 

“More than a little, your vitals are still all over the place, according to your microchip. I’ve been scanning you since we got here, FRIDAY’s been sending all the data to my watch”  Tony said pointing at his wrist, and Peter’s mouth dropped in realization, “Is that why you showed up at the club? The microchip? You thought I was in trouble.”

 

Tony nods a little sheepishly,  “Your temperature was off the charts and your heart rate was  elevated, so I just assumed you’d been hurt in battle or something despite it being I don’t know, a Saturday night. I honestly should’ve looked at the rest of your numbers a bit more closely, before barging into the club like that.”

 

“So I’m okay?”

 

“Well, technically. Not in any life threatening danger, you definitely didn’t drink enough for that. But you’re probably feeling the effects of alcohol a bit differently due to your spider biology, you’re stronger than before but also more out of control. Your senses probably feel like they’re --”

  
“Flooded. I’m overwhelmed in so many ways Mr. Stark, but it doesn’t feel bad, I promise. It feels good. So, so,  _ good _ . That’s why I don’t think I can sleep right now, my whole body feels like it’s burning, but in the best way. I’m not tired at all.” Peter interrupted, and Tony hates that his responsible mentor  _ you need sleep, kid because spider science  _ lecture didn’t even make its landing point.  Peter’s still awake, and smirking, that little shit and  _ god _ , Tony thinks,  _ If pouts were bad, smirks are pure hell.  _

 

“So can we watch a movie?”

 

  
And that’s how Tony Stark watches  _ Wall-E  _ for the first time, because AI robots should really not be as cute as Peter made they seem but they  _ were  _ and somehow during the movie, Peter had shifted to a side of the couch so that Tony could get up from where his ass was falling asleep on the rug and sit on the couch, but more importantly next to Peter. Well not quite next to, Tony tried to tell himself in vain, despite Peter’s very obvious attempts to get  _ closer _ . 

 

When the film ends, it’s almost 5 in the morning, and Peter lets out his first yawn, so Tony counts the whole encounter as a victory despite Peter’s feet crossed over his thighs, the warmth off the boy still radiating into Tony with every slight shift of his ankles on Tony’s lap, and it’s indecent, it isn’t really, but it feels like it, because Tony’s running on insomnia and drunk spider facts. 

 

“It’s late,” Tony says then, once the credits are finished, “That was a great film, kid”  

 

“I’m glad you liked it, Mr. Stark” Peter responds, voice soft because it really is that late, and Tony’s assuming the spider juice is just about finishing its course.

 

“Well, you need to sleep --” Tony begins, about to move Peter’s feet off his lap in one swift movement, when Peter’s calves exert some pressure,  _ right super spider strength,  _ and Tony couldn’t get up even if he wanted to, not without the suit’s help at least. 

 

“Stay, please.” Peter says, and his voice sounds raw, a little too raw for a time this late. It hits Tony then just how long this entire night has been, how it’s still going on, and probably will until they faced what had happened in the club, because Tony could run, could run his entire life from it, but Peter, he deserved better. The sun would be rising soon, and Tony thinks they should probably talk about it. 

 

+

 

When Tony says, “Kid, what happened tonight?”, Peter thinks  _ finally  _  at the same time he remembers the beginning of this dizzy night, and suddenly it isn’t about their kiss, it’s about the other one, the one that Peter didn’t want, his first ever kiss --

 

“Peter, that was your first kiss?” And Peter apparently said that entire sentence out loud, oh god, and he can feel Tony’s anxiety as the older man’s hands freeze  where he’d softly been rubbing circles into Peter’s ankles. “Kid, you can’t be serious.” 

 

Peter huffs, choosing to be honest and plowing ahead with the truth, “Yea-yeah. It was. Not like my first kiss ever, but I guess the first one that would’ve mattered because it was. You know with a boy. And it’s only been a few months that I’ve really been out, but between spiderman and school and the internship I havent really had any time to do anything about the fact that i’m hopelessly gay, even though I still do  _ want _ … men? Boys, men, the whole gay territory “ Peter scrambles a little because he almost said  _ you _ and that feels a little wrong to enter into his mini coming out speech to Tony, feels a little too soon, even though it’s true and Peter knows it, has known it since the first time he bought a Iron Man poster, “Besides it’s me and it’s not like any guy’s exactly lining up to kiss me anytime soon, I’m kind of lame, Mr. Stark. You probably don’t understand, being who you are. Everyone wants you. So yeah, tonight was the first.”

 

“So you wanted that guy to kiss you?” Tony spits the sentence out, the hidden anger barely concealed, and Peter almost hears pain in the way Tony’s mouth remains tight after. 

 

“ _ N-No! _ No. No, oh God No. I hated it the second I realized what was going on. I’m so glad you stepped in Mr.Stark, because I was too freaked out to use my powers in case I hurt him because I was so drunk you know, and I don’t really I’m just not good at those sort of things and it definitely took me by surprise but no. I didn’t want my first kiss to be some nameless pervert trying to take advantage of my lack of sobriety on a crowded dance floor.”

 

+

 

Tony doesn’t know what compels him to do it but he’s wrapping Peter up in a hug before his inner monologue can stop him, and he knows that a lap full of Peter Parker wasn’t going to do him any good at all, but it was 5 AM and the kid had the  _ worst _ first kiss possible so Tony will take his chances. 

 

Peter wasn’t expecting it of course, and the boy let out a  small sound when Tony reached over and all but cocooned the boy in his arms, blankets and all, and it took Tony a minute to realize that Peter was crying, his nose sniffling a little.

 

“I’m sorry it’s so stupid, it’s just a kiss —“

 

“It isn’t just a kiss Peter, that perv hurt you and I wish I could blast him the hell out of the city because you’re a kid and he took advantage of you” 

 

“M’not though, I’m the age of consent now.” And Tony hates that he files that away in his thoughts as something to think about later, which is just horrible considering Peter needs him to be his paternal mentor type figure right now because he was casually assaulted while drunk and he’s crying in Tony’s arms and it really —

 

“ _ Hey _ ”, Peter says, booping Tony in the nose with his nose, and it’s ridiculous enough to snap Tony out of his mental drainpipe, “I can hear you thinking.”

 

“Doesn’t matter is you’re 17 or 30, you didn’t want him to kiss you, which means it wasn’t consensual, and it’s not your fault, Peter” And it sounds a little too rough on the delivery, but Tony needs Peter to hear it, because this  _ beautiful _ , fantastic, smart boy was staring at him with big brown eyes, dark lashes wet with tears, and Tony needs Peter to know that he didn’t deserve that as his first memory of something important, the kid deserved so much more. 

 

“It sounds kind of terrible when you say it like that.” Peter says, nose scrunching up as he scoots on top of Tony, and they’re both awkwardly lying down on the too small couch, limbs tangled with each other. 

 

“It was kind of terrible, kid.”  They’re touching everywhere and Tony is keenly aware of every nerve point.

 

“What a way to describe my first kiss,  _ kind of terrible _ ” Peter all but mumbles into the  curve of Tony’s neck, breath warm where Peter exhaled. 

 

“What did you want your first kiss to be like?” 

 

The question is innocent enough, but Tony whispers it  because he doesn’t really want to hear the answer, because it’s Peter and he isn’t blind, isn’t blind to the tension between them. To ask him, so directly, no matter how quiet (it’ll never be quiet enough with the kid’s superhero hearing), Tony was laying down a card, toeing the line like Peter did by kissing him in the club. 

 

Somehow asking this question feels worse than a drunk kiss, and the responding answer confirms what Tony so desperately didn’t want to believe: he can’t walk away from this.

 

_ It was never going to be just a kiss.  _

 

Because when Tony asks, voice just above a soft whisper, the question all but slipped into Peter’s ear, the younger boy doesn’t even flinch or wait a second before responding, “With you.” 

 

Peter says it simply, like those two words summed up all the gooey feelings that came with all the firsts of growing up.  _ With you _ , like Tony deserved all of it, and more

 

+

 

“With me” Tony echoes, and the anxious part of Peter wishes he’d thought a little more about what he said, but they’re both so close now and Peter  _ wants _ . 

 

“Is that why you kissed me? In the club? In front of all those people.” And Tony doesn’t sound angry, Peter thinks, if anything, there’s a bit of awe in his voice, surprise, astonishment, even if Peter would go as far to say.

 

“Yeah. I mean, sort of ? The tequila made me do it, in a way but, if I had the chance again, I wouldn’t think twice either.”  Peter knows he’s barely making any sense, those those sentences were poorly worded together, but Tony just lets out a breath, one that Peter didn’t even notice he’d been holding. 

  
“I think you weren’t thinking twice about a lot of things tonight.” Tony muses, and Peter’s blushing, he can’t help think back to the way he was dancing, unrestrained and filthy.  “But it’s okay, since the tequila made you do it.” 

 

“ _ Mr. Stark _ ”, Peter whines because Tony’s teasing, doesn’t even have to look to know Tony’s grinning.  Peter rolls his eyes, didn’t Tony ever get drunk and suddenly start dancing like a stripper to club music?  

 

“It’s okay kid, I don’t care that you danced with those guys --” 

 

“It was  _ one _ guy, and you  _ should  _ care.”  Peter knows he probably sounds petulant, but he doesn’t want this to be a game, needs this to be a deeper admission. 

 

“No, I  _ should _ take you home.”  Tony mocks, and Peter’s had it waiting for Tony to make the first move. 

 

“Well,” The last remnants of liquid courage in his veins only bolster his decision, and Peter’s pushing himself up and turning to straddle Tony in one swift move, pulling Tony up with him by the loose end of his tie, till Peter’s all but breathing into the older man’s mouth, ass snug against Tony’s crotch, “I’m home, Mr. Stark.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know you hate me because that ending was just CRUEL but i promise the next update is going to be so much,,,, sex,,, and also fluff? because i can't resist a good morning after and also getting together! fics and UH YEAH 
> 
> comments make me work faster,,,,, i'm sorry this chapter was a literal TEASE but i promise i'll make it worth your while, just stick around a lil more longer !! 
> 
> follow me on [starkerplease.tumblr.com ](https://starkerplease.tumblr.com) for more of these kind of feelings or to just say hi

**Author's Note:**

> comments make peter and tony makeout again faster, also pancakes, stay in tuned for pancakes and more fluff, and sex. all the good sex. 
> 
> thank u for reading i love u <3 
> 
> also i made a starker tumblr side blog bc i am WEAK !!! follow starkerplease.tumblr.com for more peter/tony needs


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